


medium cappuccino with cinnamon

by lawltam



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, This is super self-indulgent, teeny short series, they like different things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 09:24:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12251541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lawltam/pseuds/lawltam
Summary: “Medium cappuccino with cinnamon.”His voice seemed to contradict his tired aura, instead ringing with aliveness. The barista looked up, and god bless his exhaustion made him slightly sluggish, or else he might’ve said something quite embarrassing along the lines of ‘You’re really hot.’





	medium cappuccino with cinnamon

**Author's Note:**

> my first fic on ao3! this is a big step, and hopefully im good enough for this platform! alrighty, let's go!
> 
> this is a food based work!

# medium cappuccino with cinnamon

A slow, cool breeze of spring air passed through the opening glass door of a quaint coffee house. In emerged a figure, tall and lanky with copper skin speckled with freckles, though most was covered with a forest green jacket. A grey hood covered playful eyes, as well as light bags under them. 

“Medium cappuccino with cinnamon.” His voice seemed to contradict his tired aura, instead ringing with aliveness. The barista looked up, and God bless his exhaustion made him slightly sluggy, or else he might’ve said something quite embarrassing along the lines of _‘You’re really hot.’_

“To go?”

“Right, yes please.” The barista nodded, grabbing a permanent marker off the counter and held the cap between his teeth. The playful-looking man stared at him - or more precisely, the marker cap. Between his teeth. 

“What’s your name?”

“Lance.” The worker scribbled the name, and hesitated for a moment, debating whether or not to add a little heart at the end. He didn’t. Instead, he placed the cup on the counter and started to make the order. As he flicked on the espresso machine, he heard the stranger - Lance - talk once more. 

“So, this is a nice place. Are you a part-timer here?” He looked up, eyes following Lance as he walks around the little café. He watches him, as subtly as he can, while the other boy seems genuinely awed by the simple coffeehouse. 

“No, actually. My brother and I run this place.” The barista offers a smile, pouring the espresso into the cup and reaching over for the foamed milk. 

“That’s pretty cool!” Lance grins and turns around, coming a bit closer and settling into one of the ottomans scattered around the shop. “So you two have been at it for a while then, huh?” 

He gestures to a framed certificate. The barista remembers that day very well. It was a busy day, not different from any other, when an important looking man stepped into his store and deemed them ‘the best coffee shop in the city’. Since then, their popularity had skyrocketed, and while the new money was great, both brothers were just constantly exhausted. They’ve been putting up fliers for job applications, but have gotten nothing but fangirls that would want nothing more than to gawk at them instead of doing actual work. 

The barista doesn’t answer, instead filling the to-go cup with the milk and shaking a good amount of cinnamon on top. He snaps a lid onto the rim of the cup and sets it on the counter. “Medium cappuccino with cinnamon for Lance.”

All too eager, Lance carefully takes hold of the cup and takes a tentative sip before letting out a quite satisfactory sigh. The barista just looks on, a small smile gracing his lips. Lance looks back at the barista. “Can I marry this cappuccino?”

He laughs, and Lance can think of nothing cuter than him hiding his smile with the back of his hand. “Only if I get to walk it down the aisle.”

“Well,” Lance gives a quick glance to his watch and frowns. “I’ve gotta run, but I’ll be back for another one of these bad boys.” He holds his cup a little higher before exiting the coffee shop, seemingly oblivious to the eyes that follow him. 

* * *

Behind the counter, Lance wiped glasses and chatted idly with a customer. On a Friday night, the club was bound to be absolutely brimming with partiers of all kinds. The manager, Coran, had decided to put Lance on closing that evening, which is one of the most horrid things you could to said man. Fortunately, his pal Hunk was helping him out with mixing, so it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been.

A lucky fellow had managed the nib the last stool remaining and Lance turned to them to grab his order. That’s when he faltered and almost dropped the glass he was holding. 

It was the barista. The one with the cursed mullet (though Lance was more than willing to look past that flaw simply for the way he held that Sharpie cap between his teeth). He was alone, or perhaps his friends were out in the battlefield called the ‘dancefloor’. 

“Sir, what would you like?” Lance offered a smile, the same one he gives to any other customer – with perhaps a bit too much fondness in it. The customer looked up, and a full minute passed before recognition lit up his features. 

“Medium cappuccino with cinnamon?”

“Uh,” Lance laughs and looks to the side slightly. “We don’t exactly serve that here.”

“Yes, of course not, that's not what I meant, but,” The coffee shop barista shook his head, but there was a small smile on his lips. “You’re, uh... Lance, right?” 

Lance was genuinely surprised that he actually recalled his name. “You remembered?”

The barista nodded, and was clearly very excited about that. Lance could see pigments of red creep dust his cheeks, despite not having a drink yet. Oh wait, that reminds him; maybe he should actually do his job.

“Right, so, your order?”

“I don’t really go drinking very often, so just surprise me,” The barista smiles, eyes following Lance’s hands as they reach for the cocktail shaker. He’ll probably just make a Rum & Coke, something simple. 

They stay in silence for a bit - or at least in the constant hum of blaring music and chatter around them, with Lance making the drink and the barista watching every movement. It was comfortable, and perhaps it’s simply because he’s doing his job, but Lance would like to believe that they’ve reached the level of ‘not-quite-acquaintances-but-not-strangers-either’. 

“Rum & Coke for..” Lance looks pointedly at the barista, eyebrows raised. He slides the glass to him. “This is the part where you’d say your name.”

The barista, though amused, doesn’t answer at first and instead takes hold of the drink. He takes a few sips and pauses. “Keith. Can I marry this drink?” Keith grins and glances at Lance.

“Only if I get to walk it down the aisle.”

**Author's Note:**

> dont forget to leave a kudos and a comment if you liked it! i'd really appreciate it :)


End file.
